


Crimson Red

by Reptilia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Merlin (Merlin), Awkward Crush, M/M, Merlin is very unlucky, Mutual Pining, Pining Merlin (Merlin)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reptilia/pseuds/Reptilia
Summary: Arthur models for a live drawing class. Or, alternatively, Merlin has a very stressful semester.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Crimson Red

Lancelot is having his tea in peace when he is startled by someone screaming in frustration. Merlin emerges from his room looking guilty, covered in red paint and with a pained expression on his face.

“Ugh,” he says, slouching down on the couch. “I’ve got nothing. Absolutely no inspiration. None. Not a single bit.”

“Oh, come on,” Lance reassures him, leaning on the kitchen counter. “I’m sure something will come to you.”

Merlin looks at him like he is out of his mind. “I’m telling you, there’s no way I’m going to survive this semester. I’m stuck. I have no ideas.”

“You will manage, eventually,” replies Lance, sipping his tea. “Like you always do.”

It’s not the first time that his roommate has complained to him about not having clear ideas for a project. Yes, he has to admit, this time around the matter seems serious. But then again, Merlin kind of tends to be a bit dramatic when it comes to art, so.

“No, you don’t understand. I’m _actually_ stuck this time,” Merlin groans, sounding discouraged. “It has to be creative block. I never thought it was possible to experience something like that. Until now, I wasn’t even sure it existed at all!”

He sighs. Well, apparently, it exists. And it’s awful.

Merlin usually feels like he could _drown_ in his own ideas. There’s so much going on in his head, that most of the time, his primary concern is the fact that the thoughts are just _too many_. He never had the opposite problem, but now he’s got nothing going on. Mind completely fucking blank.

He has been without relevant ideas for at least a month now. At first he thought that it was fine, because it was the end of the term, and he had a lot of plans for his Christmas holidays. He wasn’t going to think about projects anyway.

Then, at one point, it wasn’t fine anymore. It was just strange. And that’s when he started freaking out.

Now, he wakes up every day thinking _today is the day when this hell loop finally ends_. Spoiler: it never is. And it’s testing his patience.

He desperately wants to find a way to stop this neverending nightmare.

He tried at least a couple dozen different methods, like meditation, binge watching movies to ease his mind, rearranging all the furniture in his bedroom, and so on.

None of it worked.

Having an empty head is not quite the same as having an empty stomach. It’s not something that you just fix stuffing your mouth with bread. (He knows, he tried that too.)

It’s not that he’s completely devoid of thoughts either. It’s just that they are mostly useless.

Nothing stimulates his creativity.

And to be honest, without the motivation to do art, he is starting to feel worthless.

Lance sits on the couch next to him, and offers him a cup of tea. Merlin was so busy overthinking that he hadn’t noticed his friend was making him one. He smiles and thanks him with a nod.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Merlin,” he says. “Maybe you should join an artistic collective? Visit an exposition? Take some time off?”

“Are you kidding?” he squeaks. “Only people _with_ ideas join artistic collectives. Also, school starts tomorrow. And I’m broke as fuck. I cannot afford to do any of that stuff.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to sulk and mope a bit more.” Lance replies ironically.

“Not funny, Lancelot.” He glares at him. His friend simply replies with a shrug.

“Dude look,” he explains. “I’m not saying that it will become better easily and right away. But in the meantime, at least try to not consume yourself worrying too much.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Merlin spends a couple of seconds thinking in silence and drinking his tea. “I don’t wish to become even more worn out than I already am at the moment.”

“Exactly, mate. You look like a zombie.”

“You’re supposed to show some support, not bully me.” Merlin whines, shoving his friend to the other side of the couch.

“I’m just saying!”

Merlin looks at him with an expression that is the perfect mix between betrayal and exhaustion, all while collapsing under a blanket. Then he proceeds to scream into a pillow.

Lancelot doesn’t even flinch, he just sits back and sips his tea.

“That’s a good counterargument, I’ll give you that.”

Merlin grunts into the poor pillow in response.

“Ok, now that we’ve had this wonderful conversation,” says Lance, looking mildly horrified as he notices the paint on his roommate’s cheek. “Move. You’re staining my couch.”

_____

Merlin is pretty sure that he must have done something terrible in his past life.

He just can’t be _that_ unlucky without a reason, right? It has to be karma or something.

It’s only the first day of the semester and everything is already going to hell.

That morning he complains once again to Lance about the fact that _inspiration is a bitch when it doesn’t show up_. He simply replies _shut up, inspiration will come to you_.

Then he leaves in a hurry, almost forgetting his supplies, and it is a miracle when he makes it to the tube intact, considering all of the times he tripped over his own feet.

He arrives on campus, exulting internally, because he is sure he is going to make it in time. He is already quite known for his tardiness, but he had hoped to start this semester without making himself too noticeable.

Wondering how he managed to not be late for once, he checks the time and doesn’t notice when a guy turns the corner. He slams into him, knocking the phone out of his hands.

Merlin promptly loses his balance and drops his bag, making all of his things fall out. He leans down to pick up his stuff, scoffing and mumbling to himself. _I had almost made it into the building, for fuck’s sake_.

“Are you _dumb_? Watch where you’re going.” The bloke shouts angrily, gripping an empty cup in his hand. “You made me spill my coffee all over myself.”

Merlin looks up, glaring at him. “Don’t be such an ass, you crashed into me just as much as I did.” _Who does this dude think he is?_

The guy looks offended, and if possible, even angrier. “Are you saying that it’s _my_ fault?”

He stops and stares at him for a moment. Merlin can’t help but notice how the guy is actually kind of handsome, despite the angry frown. Blond hair and generally nice, proportionate face. Perfect nose. It would be great to draw him. Or to flirt with him. _Too bad he is such an asshole_.

“Look, I’m just saying that it was an unfortunate coincidence,” he explains, straightening up after collecting his sketchbook. “There’s no need to make such a fuss about it. Shit just happens sometimes.”

Merlin kind of exults internally when he sees that he towers over the other guy by at least a few inches. _I hope you are reconsidering your stances, asshole_.

Unfortunately, the other guy does not seem very intimidated. Merlin supposes his presence isn’t really that imposing. The bloke just stares at him, disheartened, and rubs his nose.

“I don’t have time for this,” he states, not even trying to argue anymore.

“Well, neither do I.” Merlin smiles, meaning well but probably looking like he is trying to mock him. “Have a nice day.”

The bloke doesn’t reply. Merlin leaves without looking back, satchel on his shoulder, and heads straight to class. _That’s just great_. _He had to get in my way so that I couldn’t break my late-to-class streak_.

When he enters the room he apologizes to the professor, then he goes to his usual spot, where Freya greets him with a hug.

“Late as usual, I see,” she jokes, poking him in the stomach. “The live model has already arrived. Just a minute before you, actually.”

Merlin nods in response, and looks in the direction of the folding screen. The model is behind it getting changed, from what he can guess seeing the clothes that are being thrown around.

Merlin takes a deep breath and starts getting ready for the lesson. His ritual today includes: sharpening all of his pencils (until he feels like he could probably stab someone with them), organizing his work surface and complaining to Freya.

At the moment she is on his right, setting up her canvas.

“On top of all this shit that is happening to me lately, you know what just happened?” he asks her absentmindedly, while polishing his brushes. “A bloke ran into me on my way to class. Made me drop all of my stuff and didn’t even apologize for it. He’s lucky that my ink bottles are still in one piece or else I would have fought him on the spot.”

“Yeah, right,” she says, amused. “You couldn’t fight someone even if they asked you to. I get your spirit tough. It’s like, they don’t have any idea about how much all of this costs, don’t they?”

“They sure don’t,” he agrees, while finishing to put everything in order.

“I totally could have taken him down, by the way,” adds Merlin after a few seconds of silence.

He says it trying to maintain a serious expression, but totally failing in delivering it. Freya has to try very hard to suppress her laugh, she doesn’t want to be called out by the professor, or the classmates. Merlin giggles at her reaction, earning a glare.

Out of the corner of his eye he can spot the professor talking animatedly, beside the folding screen, probably the instructing the new live model.

Professor Morgause is a very strict, but at the same time, a very considerate teacher.

Is the third year in a row that Merlin has had her, and he’s glad of it. She allows a lot of stuff that he probably couldn’t get away with if he had other professors.

But she doesn’t tolerate talking during her classes. She believes that observation is something that has to be done in complete meditation an silence.

(Also, it’s probably because it is not very polite to talk about other things when the live model is standing naked right in front of you.)

But at the moment Morgause is still speaking to whoever’s standing behind the folding screen. And she isn’t near enough to hear their banter, so he can stop worrying.

He barely catches a glimpse of the model for a split second.

“So,” he says to Freya, trying to whisper as much as possible. “New model. A male this semester, right?”

“Yes,” she confirms. “ _Finally_ , if you ask me.” Merlin sends a disapproving look her way.

“Oh, please. Don’t look at me like that,” she scoffs. “I’ve just spent the last four months drawing an old lady. Forgive me if I’m looking forward to a change of subject.”

Merlin nods in agreement. “I’m not judging, I hope this one is not as bad as last year’s, tough,” he adds.

“I actually pretty liked Gwaine,” she protests. Merlin raises an eyebrow.

“Are you kidding? I _loved_ Gwaine, best guy ever, but he couldn’t stay still for five minutes,” he says. “It’s a wonder how he even got the job, really.”

Freya snorts, trying not to laugh too hard.

“You know, Merlin, I think the new model will surprise you. He’s quite the vision.”

“You say that just because you’re still used to the old lady,” he teases her. She laughs it off and excuses herself to go meet the other classmates, meanwhile he finishes tidying up his workspace.

His brushes are perfectly clean and aligned with each other. His acrylics are sorted by shade and he has already filled his container for the water. Everything seems in place, but he can’t help himself and examines his desk once again.

“Are you nervous?” asks a voice beside him. Probably a classmate, concerned with all of the times he has already moved the pencils on his desk. He must’ve seemed obsessive.

“Not really,” he answers, not even bothering to look who it is. “But the world has been against me lately. I want to be sure to not fuck up my first piece of the semester.”

“Is that it?” the voice chuckles. “Are you sure it’s not because you aren’t really that good?”

The question is kind of playful and kind of sardonic. It doesn’t sting, but it certainly takes him by surprise and that’s why it takes him a second to process. Merlin snickers in response.

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you,” he retorts, smirking, with a hint of pride slipping past his lips. He’s not really bothered, he’s just too busy checking if everything is alright, both in his head and on his desk.

“I’m sure you can,” the voice replies sarcastically. “Just like you can handle running into people and not apologizing.”

“ _What?_ ” Merlin snaps his head up and _oh no_. It’s him. The guy he crashed into that morning. He is standing still, head tilted to the side, smug expression on his beautiful face.

 _Obviously, who else could it be_. Knowing his luck, Merlin probably should have known from the start that it is never that easy. How is his life this full of embarrassment and complications? Merlin wonders if booking a one way ticket to South America at this very moment would be too sudden or an actual smart choice.

The guy keeps staring at him with his arms crossed over his chest. And, oh god, he really does have some terribly impressive biceps.

“Well?” he says, in a horribly obnoxious way. “Aren’t you going to apologize now?”

Judging from his sneer and his way of talking, he seems like one of those very posh people who are used to have everything handed to them on a plate. Excuses included, even if they are not due.

Merlin raises both his eyebrows. “Not really, you seem kind of a prat.”

The guy chuckles, like he is delighted by the situation. Merlin doesn’t get it.

But it doesn’t matter, because he figures he could probably spend the rest of the year ignoring this classmate without too much effort. It isn’t really going to be that much of a bother, if the guy also agrees to just let it go and never bring up the coffee incident again.

“Don’t bother mate,” Merlin advises. “I don’t think it was my fault, and if you still feel the need to insist, I suggest you don’t waste your time because I’m very determined and I’m just going to pretend you don’t exist for the rest of the term.”

“I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to do that.” The guy states, sounding more and more like an annoying prick every time he opens his mouth.

Merlin is just about to reply, but Professor Morgause walks to the center of the class at that very moment, interrupting their conversation. “Good morning everyone. Please grab your equipment and get started with your work.”

Merlin spots Freya rushing to her workstation, just like everyone else. He tries to ignore the guy, who is for whatever reason still hanging at his side, instead of getting ready somewhere else. He takes a deep breath. Merlin tries to reason and convince himself that everything’s going to be fine despite everything.

“Arthur,” says the professor, pointing at the guy beside him. “We’re ready whenever you are.”

 _Fuck_.

Merlin suspects he is going to regret being born any moment now.

Speechless, and with his mouth gaping, he turns to look at the guy. Everything becomes unmistakably clear when the blond nods at the professor’s directives.

 _Double fuck_.

The guy catches him staring and his pretty face splits into a devilish grin. “Have fun, then,” he whispers, not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but with a tone deep enough to make Merlin shiver. Then turns his back to him and starts walking to the center of the room.

When he arrives on the mat, he loosens the belt of his robe and lets it slip on the floor.

Merlin can’t even process what is happening. He feels like his head is going to explode.

He really is the most unlucky fucker to ever exist, isn’t he?

 _Of course he’s the live model_. The coffee guy _is_ the new model. Had he really been too distracted that he couldn’t notice the guy was wearing a robe? A fucking robe. Granted, he spends too much time around artsy people, and eventually you get used to the weird stuff they wear, but _a robe?_ For Christ’s sake, it was _so obvious_.

If he was waiting for a sign to be sure that the universe hated him, this must be it.

If there’s a superior entity above, it certainly despises him, beyond doubt. The stars have aligned and decided that Merlin deserves a monumental _fuck you_.

Otherwise, there’s no logical explanation as to why he finds himself in this situation.

On second thought, the idea of migrating to South America has never been so tempting.

Between contemplating the idea of fleeing and thinking _maybe_ _if I concentrate hard enough the floor will swallow me and I won’t have to deal with this shit_ , at some point he has to stop damning his whole existence. He would like to say that it’s because he calmed down, but it’s actually because he acknowledges that the guy is right in front of him, following the professor’s orders as she explains the pose.

And he’s naked.

He is standing naked. In front of him. _On a pedestal_.

Merlin is not sure if he can take it.

To avoid further mortification, he tears his gaze away and tries to look at anything but _him_.

There has to be some way out of this, right?

But he can’t leave now. And it doesn’t look like he is going to pass out anytime soon, even if he wishes to. Now that he thinks about it, it’s truly surprising how he hasn’t fainted yet in the first place.

His thoughts are going a million miles a minute.

That guy. Is the new model. How has his life come to this, again?

“You know,” Freya leans towards him to speak in a low voice. “You’re actually supposed to look at him in order to draw something. Like, that’s the whole purpose of this class.”

Merlin suddenly becomes very aware of the fact that he has been staring at his blank canvas for the past few minutes.

“You are not going to believe this but,” he manages to say without choking, inhaling and exhaling slowly like a normal human being. The wide eyed panicked look that he sends her must be pretty self-explanatory. “He’s the asshole from this morning.”

Now she’s the one looking shocked. “The one who almost murdered your ink bottles?” she asks, baffled. Merlin silently nods in reply, feeling his face heat up.

“Oh my god,” Freya laughs. “This is ridiculous! _How?_ There’s no way.”

“Well, apparently there is,” he snorts. If this wasn’t happening to him, he’s sure that he would find it hilarious too. He is not going to hold it against her.

Freya bites her lower lip and mumbles. “I bet you made quite the impression.” Merlin can practically hear the amusement, even if it’s well hidden.

“Oh my god Freya, I’m so fucked,” he cries as silently as possible. “I called him a prat.”

“Of course you did,” she shakes her head, smiling fondly at her friend.

“I’m going to die of embarrassment,” he sighs dreadfully. “How am I supposed to look at him?”

“You have to, I’m afraid,” she states, putting a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “I won’t let you quit college and disappear just because you have the worst-timed comebacks in the world. I need your sarcasm here with me to survive classes.”

“Thanks, always good to know you consider me a vital necessity and not a real person.”

“You’re welcome,” she beams, patting his back. “By the way I’m sure he won’t let this get in the way. And neither should you. Just act like you have always done with other models.”

“It’s going to be pretty hard,” he whines, burying his face in his hands.

“Keep up your professionalism. I’ll be awkward for the first few minutes, but then you’ll manage,” she affirms.

“Maybe at some point you’ll be so caught up in your work that you’ll even forget it’s him!” she tries to encourage him, but her attempt is met with a pained expression on Merlin’s behalf that just says _that’s never going to happen and you know it_.

She stops speaking and takes a few moments to think. “In hindsight, maybe it’s not that plausible. It would be pretty hard to overlook the embarrassment. Hell, it would be even harder to ignore him while drawing him. Impossible, even. Not only because of the embarrassment but also because he looks like _that_. I mean, if passed him on the street I would definitely not forget him. Like, you know what I’m trying to say, right?”

Something about Merlin’s distressed face tells her that yes, he gets it.

“To be honest I haven’t yet found the courage to look at him for more than a millisecond,” he whispers, trying to keep his voice low. “But _oh god_ , yes, he’s so fit.”

Freya nods frantically and gestures with her hands, in a way that says _see? That’s exactly what I meant_. Merlin lets out a strained groan.

“In any case, you have to start doing something, and I have to work too. We can talk about your misfortunes and try to drown them in alcohol tonight at my place.”

Merlin silently agrees, and turns to face his still untouched canvas. He builds up some courage and takes a peek at the center of the room where, displayed like a work of art, is the naked model.

Merlin can practically feel the blush creeping up his neck.

He swallows hard and begins to paint.

_____

A week goes by in a haze of alcohol-induced dizziness.

Merlin isn’t usually the type to drink his sorrows away, but it’s a special occasion for a spectacularly bad week. Or month, if we want to be more accurate.

He spends half of his time wallowing in shame, sue him if he thinks he deserves a break.

Besides, Lance takes him to the pub basically every night, so it’s mostly his fault, really.

Between hanging out with his roommate and lectures with Freya, days pass in a blur and he manages not to think about his live drawing classes.

Last time he attended professor Morgause’s lesson, it hadn’t been the best time of his life.

Somehow he had managed to actually get something done, the professor didn’t comment on his technique, and overall the lesson didn’t turn out half as bad as it could have been.

But the whole time he had been a nervous wreck, and his work ended up being a mess of hesitant abstract lines that didn’t do justice to the actual subject.

When Freya jokingly accused him of not really observing what he had to draw, he invoked his rights to artistic license and interpretation.

But much to his displeasure, she had been right.

He had tried to avoid looking at the model as much as possible, which wasn’t very ideal considering that that was exactly what he had to do in the first place.

Since it was the first lesson of the semester, anyway, it was going to be considered more of a warm-up rather than an actual assignment. So there wasn’t the need to worry about the quality of his piece.

When he thinks about it, Merlin feels a bit doomed. Not only his art has been shit lately, but now he also has to deal with a live model who, and Merlin is pretty fucking sure of it, is enjoying to the core every single one of Merlin’s wide eyed expressions.

He’s certain that the bastard is gloating somewhere in his supervillain cove. (Yes, that is something he has actually come up with while he was compromised by the booze.)

That’s why, as absurd as it sounds, he manages to put his thoughts aside for a whole week. But inevitably, it will come down on him again as soon as the weekend is over.

Merlin waltzes into class on Monday morning, still sleepy and carrying his paper sheets rolled under his arms. He tries to not freeze on the spot when he sees him in the corner, talking with the professor.

He’s still dressed, which is a relief because Merlin hasn’t started yet to mentally prepare himself to sit through torture. It’s one thing to ignore a person when they are wearing clothes, it’s a whole other thing when they are completely naked.

So, yeah. It’s not easy to recover from the embarrassment, which is still lingering in his stomach even after an entire week.

Merlin really hopes that one day he will be able to get over it.

Then again, he is the kind of person who dwells on things until they are permanently ingrained in his mind. Essentially, there’s no escaping it.

A part of Merlin wishes he had the courage to just apologize for making a complete fool of himself. On the other side, the other guy also acted like a dickhead and Merlin doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It would be like admitting he was wrong.

So he just hopes that they have some unspoken agreement to be professional, ignore what happened and never bring it up again.

Apparently, they don’t.

Because a second later he spots the guy heading his way, with a smirk plastered on his face.

Merlin had clearly underestimated his stubbornness.

He puts on a serious and neutral expression, a façade to show him that he’s not really bothered by the fact that he’s approaching. Which of course, it’s all bullshit.

“Hey,” says the blond, planting himself in front of him. Merlin raises an eyebrow and doesn’t say it back. They guy seems to catch on his game and snorts at the attempt.

“Listen, I’m not here to mess with you,” he explains with a playful tone. Merlin detests the way this guy seems always to have control of the situation. He’s not going to give him the satisfaction of a reply. “I’m not here to ask for another apology either. I don’t need it, it has been enough of a delight to look at your shocked face last time.”

 _I knew the bastard was having the time of his life_. The bastard in question is also standing way too close. He can practically feel the amusement radiating off of him.

“I’ll admit, I had my fun,” he confesses with a shrug. “But I’m not that much of a jerk that I want to compromise your college experience. I don’t want to make classes unbearable for you. Student life is already complicated enough as it is.”

Merlin’s expression falters. Well, that was unexpected.

He was already planning a few witty comebacks in his head, but he just had to go and play nice. Damn him. Merlin wasn’t prepared for _this_.

In any case, he’s so relieved by what the guy just said, that he involuntarily lets down his scowl in favor of a half-grin. He can finally relax, which is a good thing, since he is not really cut out to act tough.

The guy chuckles softly, since it looks like Merlin is taking it well.

“So, you have my word I’m not going to hold it against you,” he reassures him. “After all, it was an _unfortunate coincidence_. Shit just happens sometimes.”

He quotes that last line with a playful smile on his lips, and Merlin feels his knees go weak. The fucker has already got him wrapped around his finger.

He only said, like, two sentences and Merlin is already convinced to put everything past him. He supposes his dashing smile and pretty eyes play a role in it too.

He grunts because he knows that this is possibly the best outcome he could have hoped for.

Merlin is not sure if he’s more impressed by the truce he just offered him, or by the way the blond is running a hand through his perfect hair, waiting for a reply.

Merlin can’t stand bullies, but he can appreciate a good prank. He understands the need for payback, even if it is at his expense. It could have been worse.

“Yeah, I suppose it’s alright,” he shrugs, trying to keep his composure.

“Really?” exclaims the guy, grinning like a little kid. At the sight of his shy but honest smile, Merlin’s stomach does a backflip. “So, we’re cool?”

“We’re cool,” he nods. He wasn’t really planning on holding a grudge anyway.

“Fantastic,” he says, still smiling. “I’m Arthur by the way.”

“Merlin,” he replies, and they shake hands.

“Well, _Merlin_ , I’m glad you understand,” he says, sounding relieved. Now that the tension has cleared out, he seems very at ease and starts talking animatedly. “I couldn’t resist acting a little cocky, you know, that’s just my nature. But then I realized that my actions could have actually affected your work and, believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I just wanted to mess with you a little bit. I’m not going to apologize cause you _totally_ deserved it for the coffee, but at least now you know we’re even.”

“I’m still convinced it was your fault and not mine but whatever.” 

“Keep telling yourself that, if it lets you sleep at night,” the blond teases him.

“I appreciate the effort,” Merlin thanks him, but doesn’t resist and also adds: “Prat.”

“I think you mispronounced _I will forever be in debt to you, Arthur_ ,” he says in a high pitched voice. Merlin can’t help but laugh at that. He is very relieved.

He feels like their banter could go on forever and he wouldn’t even complain. It’s actually pretty entertaining.

At some point the professor calls Arthur and Merlin smiles at him one last time, while the blond disappears behind the folding screen.

He kind of feels all warm and fuzzy in his chest. Happy, almost?

In any case, he’s sure everything is going to be easy from now on.

_____

He wouldn’t admit it to a single soul, but what he paints after his brief conversation with Arthur, is probably his only good piece out of all the crappy ones that he produced in the last five weeks. He tries not to think about it too much.

He’s just glad that he’s finally back on track.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I don't know what I'm doing, I just really miss going to art class, I had some spare time on my hands because of quarantine, there was Merlin on tv and this happened I guess?
> 
> English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes if you want! Feedback is always nice.  
> Enjoy!


End file.
